


Unspoken & Unheard

by Mistofstars



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 8x17, 8x22, Destiel - Freeform, Fluff, M/M, Masturbation, Romance, Sappy, fix-it-story, missing each other, the road from 8x17 to 8x22
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-09
Updated: 2013-06-09
Packaged: 2017-12-14 10:55:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/836124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistofstars/pseuds/Mistofstars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's and Castiel's journey after 8x17 until 8x22 - Dean's and Castiel's thoughts about the other and how they cope with missing the other... "It's worse, because Castiel doesn't return to him, doesn't care, doesn't trust. Nevertheless he can't control his needs and his affection for the angel, growing stronger with each day he longs for him." DESTIEL fix-it-story</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Author:** Mistofstars  
>  **Pairing:** Dean Winchester / Castiel [Destiel]  
>  **Warnings:** sappy, drama, romance. It is so mushy that I'm almost embarrassed. So forgive me if it seems OOC, but I want fluffy Destiel, so I wrote it.  
>  **Disclaimer:** Dean and Sam Winchester as well as Castiel do not belong to me. Sadly they belong to the creators of Supernatural, and I bet they're having a lot of fun with the boys All of this is made up and purely made for fun – no copyright infringements intended.  
>  **Author's note:** Basically it's just me blathering about Dean and Cas non-stop, presenting it as an actual plot. I'm starting at 8x17 and it goes up to 8x22 without digging into the actual plot too much because you all know that when you've seen the episodes. Rather canon until 8x22, then I decide for the shipper's road.  
>  **Spoilers:** for 8x17 up to 8x22 and pretty much everything before that haha  
>  **Word count:** circa 6400  
>  **Chapters:** 3

**Unspoken and Unheard**

1.

He is always one step away, Dean muses, as he washes the blood out of his shirt in the sink. One step too far away, just when Dean tries to approach him, the distance to Cas simply becomes this tiny elusiveness, that makes it impossible for Dean to actually reach him, to get through to him. He sighs when he turns the tap off and towels his hands. He catches a glimpse of his self in the mirror, and for a moment he observes his face – no scratch left, no broken nose bone or bruises on his cheek. Cas has healed the outer damage he'd done, and Dean could pretend it has never happened, but he feels sick, sick to the bone. It pains him to remember what Cas had done today, even though Dean knows now he had been controlled by someone to do this to him.

Dean can't help but feel a violent hot churning in his stomach, making him kneel down in front of the toilet and retch and vomit forcefully. His legs are shaking, he coughs and pants as he throws up. He cannot forget what Castiel had done today – the punches are not the issue, Dean gets that Cas has been forced by some weird influence. What matters is Cas' face when he came around again, the way his voice had explained he was sorry for hurting Dean; the way his hand had touched Dean's cheek to heal him, resembling a caress in such a startling manner... Dean throws up again when he reminisces about Castiel leaving him in the end, with the tablet. Dean couldn't care less about the goddamn tablet – all he wants is Castiel safe and next to him. The concern for his nerdy angel friend drives him insane, and his worry mingles with his fury for Cas disappearing on him.

Altogether Dean is in a terrible state, and soon he decides to sleep it off. He brushes his teeth and wipes the sweat from his forehead – he looks disgustingly ill and pale, and he tries to convince himself it is just his physical condition making him look like that. He passes by a worried Sam as he walks to his room, telling his brother he'll take a nap. Sam is so decent to leave it at that, probably understanding Dean is too upset to voice his thoughts, that he needs some time to digest today.

When Dean lies in his bed, the bedside lamp still lit, he can't help but continue thinking about Castiel. Why is there always this distance, he wonders. Is it because he had been too harsh on the guy during the last years? Because he hadn't been forgiving enough after his little accident playing God? Or after he had threatened them and ruined Sam's mental health? Of course, Dean had been mad at him, but he thought he had made sure Castiel had understood that he had forgiven him. And even if he hadn't understood it back then, he must have noticed how much he meant to Dean when they had been in purgatory.

Dean had searched for his angel friend the better part of a year in there, insane and obsessed like his father had been with his hunt for Azazel. Jeez, he had even prayed to Castiel every night in purgatory, explaining his motivations and reasons to him, apologizing to him, praying to him he would find him. It was even before Dean had met Benny that Dean had started praying to Cas, before he knew there was a way out of purgatory. He just wanted Castiel's company, it would have made this cursed place more bearable. That was all he had asked for at that time – Castiel's reassuring company. And if it had been their destiny to die there, Dean didn't want to die alone, but at Castiel's side.

Nevertheless, Castiel still didn't seem to understand what Dean was feeling for him when they had come back to Earth. He had wanted to stay in purgatory, regardless of the depth of Dean's sentiments for him. Castiel's confession had hurt like a bitch then, and his suicidal tendencies weren't soothing either. Dean has been worried for Castiel's safety and his well-being since he had escaped from purgatory, and all the son of a bitch ever seems to do is run out on him time and again.

Dean is upset when he tosses and turns in bed restlessly, in attempt of finding a pleasant sleeping position. Suddenly there is the memory of feeling Castiel in his arms again – his lean frame pressed against Dean's body as Dean refuses to let go of him, so happy and relieved he had found Castiel again. Even in purgatory Castiel hadn't been able to reply to the hug, probably uncertain what to do and overwhelmed. Dean's breath hitches when he thinks how their bodies had fitted together so perfectly – sharp bones meeting his hip and his ribcage, Cas' tummy squeezed against his. Dean is painfully hard when he realizes he wants this again, just one more time. He is angry at himself for wanting this, for needing this. Especially when Castiel doesn't seem to feel the same way about him, especially when he has no qualms about leaving him over and over again.

Dean cups his crotch half-heartedly, feeling the warmth and hardness of his length under his palm. It's like an aching sting in his chest, making it harder to breathe, when he remembers Castiel's worried eyes observing him. The gentle touch on his cheek, one of Cas' fingers sliding down his skin slowly, as if he wants to linger on Dean just one second longer. Maybe he does care, Dean hopes. Maybe there is the slightest possibility he cares, Dean begs inwardly. He sucks in a breath when he starts massaging himself, his hand in his underwear. He is irritated and angry, and incredibly aroused when he allows his imagination to run free. Castiel's hand slides down from his cheek to his chest, wandering down determinately. Blue eyes are resting on Dean's again, possessive and demanding. Dean can hear himself stifle a low moan as he bites his bottom lip and his hand starts to pump him in slow long strokes. He gasps when he imagines Castiel kissing him painfully slowly, playfully, making him whimper with lust and need.

He almost hates himself when he starts praying to Cas while he's masturbating with the images of him, when he quietly moans he should come back to him. A part of him hopes Castiel isn't able to actually hear him, his braver, emotionally tired part wants Castiel to hear him. He turns on his back and lets his other hand crawl to the inner part of his thigh, stroking his skin languidly when he bends his knee. With half-closed lids he remembers the sound of Castiel's voice, resounding and vibrating through his body like a buzz. Dean's heartbeat is a mess, he's panting and sweating when he starts jerking himself harder and faster, hallucinating it's Castiel's hand doing this to him.

"D'you hear that?", he murmurs, making himself moan softly when he squeezes his length, making his thighs twitch. His other hand slides to his ass, one finger starts to circle around his entrance. He bites his lower lip hard when he shoves his forefinger inside his tight heat, his eyes roll to the back of his head. He can't suppress the urge to roll his hips to meet his own finger pushing inside him as he continues fucking his fist.

"It's all because of you, Cas", he pants, his voice raspy and dark, a small, humourless smile on his lips. He spreads his thighs further, working another finger inside his hole gently, a shaky low moan leaving his swollen lips. Dean's sweating and wincing whenever he fucks himself with his fingers, meeting them with steady rolls of his hips. Castiel's smile appears in his mind's eye, his tousled head; Dean remembers the feel of his coat underneath his fingers, how good his company and nearness had been, his warmth entering his mind. Dean already misses him and wishes he comes back. He prays to Cas he would come back.

"I need you, Cas, I need you", Dean says into the silence of his room, breathless and shaky. When he comes hard he bathes in the relieving bliss taking over his body, and he rocks his hips as he rides out his orgasm. But soon the emptiness returns, and the sense of being utterly forsaken smashes any hope he had. Dean feels like yelling, he wants to scream out his frustration and destroy some furniture. He has never been one to be denied, especially pretty much never when it came to sexual needs. It pisses him off that he can't have Cas, that the damn son of a gun doesn't seem to want him too. If only it was that easy that all of this is just a sexual problem. Dean is scared, transfixed with fear, when he thinks about the abyss in which Castiel had pushed him down. It hadn't been like that since Lisa, since Cassie. Dean is scared, because he is utterly and hopelessly - and he rolls his eyes when his mind actually forms this thought – he is hopelessly in love with a friggin angel.

Dean doesn't know that his prayers actually reach Castiel that night. The angel can't help but listen to Dean's ragged breaths, his quiet moans, his urgent words. It does something to Cas, makes his knees melt and his head dizzy as he slides down the exterior wall of a house in a deserted alley. He allows himself to take a time out for a few moments. It's a rainy night and darkness is all around Cas; he sees his breaths escaping him like white shreds of clouds. There's no one around and he can't sense any heavenly or demonic creature in the vicinity, so he rests his heavy head on his tucked up knees. He closes his eyes and focuses on Dean's prayers, running through him like a pulsing wave of heat. He can almost picture what Dean is doing to himself, his voice is giving him away easily.

Castiel has to smile melancholically when he hears Dean confessing it's all because of him, that he is to blame for Dean's arousal. Castiel feels a terrible yearning awaking inside him, and he wishes it was really him who did this to Dean, that he could be the one to please him. It had never occurred to him to share physical intimacies with a human, but during the last years he had learned what it was like to desire somebody, in this case no other but the man he had saved from Hell over four years ago. It is a longing Castiel can't completely comprehend, but the thought of touching Dean, of actually kissing him, makes him blush hard. It makes him feel vulnerable and unbosomed.

He can't help but tremble and sigh with pleasure when he hears Dean reaching his climax, his mind is at ease when he practically feels the satisfaction rumbling through Dean's body. He wishes dearly to hold him, to feel his body in his arms and to come home to him. Unfortunately his obligations keep him from doing so; he still has to figure out what do to with the angle tablet, he has to find a place to hide it safely – only then can he return to Dean. He smiles softly when he hears Dean saying goodnight to him, praying he is sound and alright.


	2. Chapter 2

**Unspoken and Unheard**

2.

Dean repeats his actions several times during the next weeks, but his sessions of jerking off while thinking about his angel lessen and his worried prayers for Castiel become more frequent. Dean tries to avoid any conversation with Sam about Castiel, though he understands he appears as the perfect target for such a talk. He looks like crap, he barely sleeps or eats, and he acts like a lovesick idiot. He is mad at Castiel for leaving in the first place, for not answering to his prayers, and mostly at himself for caring too much about this son of a bitch. He even knelt in front of him, telling him plainly he needed him. It hurts to think Castiel doesn't need him too, because obviously he doesn't – he doesn't bother to check on them, he doesn't return and ask for their help. He doesn't trust them. Dean tries to ignore his need for him, tries to forget about him as if he is already dead.

Then again he catches himself praying to Castiel every night before he falls asleep, and each morning when he wakes up. During each day he thinks about him multiple times, when things remind him of the angel or when he just misses him and wants his company. He can't really suppress his thoughts about Castiel, and he can't stop himself from worrying about him so badly it hurts. _You better be alright when you return, so I can kick your ass_ , is one of the many sentences he often repeats in his head, and he doesn't know that it puts a tender smile on Castiel's lips. Dean's prayers are the only thing getting Castiel through his loneliness, the only thing he's looking forward to each day while he is hiding and running away. The angel often answers, but he knows Dean can't hear him. Doesn't know that Cas confesses so much to him – that he needs him too, that he wants to come home, that he misses him.

Castiel doesn't know that Dean measures his time dependent on him. He has categorized his life in three fractions nowadays – the years pre-Cas, his time with Cas at his side, and the worst era, the without-Cas-era. He can barely remember the person he had been before Hell, before Cas and the angels and the apocalypse had taken over his life. Everything had changed the moment Castiel had rescued him from the pit. Dean is reminded of the months in which he thought Castiel was dead, after the Leviathans had left his vessel – only it is worse this time. This time, he knows Castiel is alive, at least he hopes no other angel or demon has killed him yet; It's worse, because Castiel doesn't return to him, doesn't care, doesn't trust. Nevertheless he can't control his needs and his affection for the angel, growing stronger with each day he longs for him. Dean is not aware that Castiel has been captured meanwhile, being threatened and tortured by Crowley and Naomi.

He doesn't see the cheeky smile Cas wears on his mouth when he tells them to bite him, remembering the way Dean said it so many times before. Dean doesn't know his constant prayers give Castiel hope, make him feel less forsaken and alone – he doesn't know it's what Castiel is holding on to, when he is being punched and tortured, when the pain overpowers him as Crowley hurts the angel's essence with a bullet and his ripping hands.

The horrible sense of failure burns in Castiel, mingled with guilt and regret, when he is able to escape his wardens – he appears on a lone highway in the middle of a forest, and it's night. He has sensed the Impala nearby, but he is incapable of beaming himself into it. Actually he feels a lot of pain and his Grace leaving his vessel too quickly – for the first time in a long while, Castiel is afraid he might not survive his wound. He hears screeching tires and a car door being opened quickly. It strains him to lift his head and meet the driver's eyes, but he is thrilled to see Dean's face again; worried, and startled, but so beautiful and soulful, it makes Castiel want to break down right here and now. Castiel doesn't care that he's losing consciousness when he sees Dean approaching him quickly, when a dark fog veils his sight. He smiles when he feels Dean uplifting his body, feeling safe in his arms, at home. For the first time in a long while, it's all that matters to Castiel – coming home to Dean.

Castiel feels incredibly human when he wakes up again a few hours later, which means his body feels terribly sore and at pains. It's the dead hours of the night; he realizes with half-closed eyes he is lying on a bed in a room – probably Dean's room. It's silent in the building, soothingly silent. Dean is sitting next to him on the bed, cleaning his wound absent-mindedly. Castiel doesn't mind his shirt is open, all buttons undone, nor does he bother about Dean's gentle ministrations. Dean is not aware that he is awake as he continues attending to his healing wound, so Castiel has time to drown in the sight of him so close to him. He recognizes the tiredness in Dean's features, musing he should be asleep for hours now. Castiel has to smile when he understands Dean is still awake because of him – a tender feeling blossoms inside him, makes him feel light-headed and almost happy. They both know Castiel doesn't need any medical treatment, because his wound will heal by itself, now that Crowley's bullet is gone; but it's such a tender moment, that Dean takes care of him nonetheless, that Castiel can't help but feel appreciated and loved.

His eyes wander to Dean's fingers, remembering what he had done so many nights within the last weeks, thinking about Castiel. The angel blushes at the thought of Dean's rough dark voice, his low moans, the things he had done because of desiring Castiel.

"I know what you've done. I've heard you", Cas says quietly, startling Dean in his movements. Dean meets his eyes, his mouth open in awe, and for a while it's all they do – staring at each other while both of them hear their rapid heartbeats throbbing inside of them like hysterics. Castiel wants to reach out for Dean's hand and hold it in his, wants to intertwine his fingers with Dean's and tell him it's alright, that he understands, that he wants him too. That he needs him too. There are thousands of things on the tip of his tongue, and he tries to work up the courage to admit them to Dean – he wants to tell him he has failed, that he is sorry for ever leaving him. He wants to thank him for taking care of him, he wants to thank him for all his prayers. Before he gets the chance to voice a single syllable, Dean gets up and looks down at Castiel with furious, narrowed eyes.

Dean is not embarrassed anymore – he knows he and Castiel have a too intimate bond to behave awkward about his physical deeds regarding him – Dean feels rather deeply hurt and disappointed. He can't bear the idea of Castiel hearing him all this time without returning to him sooner. It makes Dean feel as if the angel cares even less about him than he had hoped for. He knows he's behaving like an ass, considering Castiel is hurt and here now, but he can't stand his nearness at the moment. Though he craved for him for so long, he doesn't want him around after this confession. He averts his eyes from Castiel's prying ones, ignores the obvious ache in them, and walks to the door.

"You should rest until you get better. Call me, if you need anything", he says, stopping at the door briefly. Then he leaves Castiel and sleeps on the sofa for the night. It are only a few hours of a snooze and Dean's sleep is beset with nightmares about Castiel. He feels tired and weary when he gets up early in the morning, burying himself in the archive to get documents for Sam.

Castiel never wants to leave this room, afraid what might happen as soon as he meets Dean again. He is confused with the distant behaviour Dean has treated him with, considering his former devoted prayers, his private confessions, his passionate, fervent actions while thinking about Castiel. He understands with a frown that he is actually afraid of Dean's rejection and that the human is very, very upset about something Cas has said or done. He muses he has to find out and make it up to Dean somehow, because he cannot live with Dean being mad at him – especially after the last few weeks, when he had completely understood the extent of Dean's feelings for him.

Castiel forces himself to leave the room, and he meets Sam and Dean with a "good morning", but Dean doesn't greet him, does not even look at him, and Castiel freezes on the spot. Dean's coldness and silence cut through Castiel like a sharp cruel knife, it feels worse than the wounds he had received yesterday. He cannot believe this is the Dean who prayed to him so fervently, who vowed so many stunning things to him, who practically begged him to return. This Dean shows no emotions towards him, no fondness at all, and Castiel feels ill – he wants to leave, but decides to at least try to work this out. So he apologizes to Dean, but their conversation quickly drifts to an actual argument, and Castiel perceives Dean's boiling wrath directed at him.

He wishes the ground would open and swallow him up, because he can't stand Dean's furious eyes on him, speaking of so much pain it chokes Castiel with ache. On the other hand, he assumes the worst thing he could do now is leave Dean again – he heard him praying he should never leave him again. Though it hurts terribly, Castiel tries to stay and make up for the damage he has caused with his running away, receiving more of Dean's anger and his cold behaviour towards him, supposing he deserves it. He is devastated when he detects Dean won't forgive him so easily this time, but he clings to the hope he can make their relationship work again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Unspoken and Unheard**

3.

All day long it's not getting better, and Castiel starts to feel frustration among irritation. For the better part of the next hours, Dean refuses to talk to him, barely looks at him, and Castiel communicates mostly with Sam, who seems less resentful than Dean. When the two brothers decide to take a drive to St. Louis to check on the padre they had seen in the old movie, Castiel feels unsettled, even angry with Dean, when he explains Castiel is not allowed to join them. He doesn't understand why Dean refuses to accept his apology or why he struggles so hard to make Castiel refrain from helping them. Castiel sits on Dean's bed in his room for a lengthy while, his hands folded together, as he's staring at the wall and tries to figure out what he is supposed to do now.

Again, he belongs to no one, and to no side. He thought he had earned his place at the Winchester's side, but it seems, he has messed this up thoroughly. He needs a second chance, he needs Dean's forgiveness. Castiel doesn't know what to do, but if he had to choose a side, if he had to choose between Heaven or earth, he knows which one it would be – whether Dean would welcome him or not. It hurts to hear the echo of his words repeatedly cutting through his thoughts, telling him they don't need their help – if Castiel hates anything it is the idea of being utterly useless. He needs to do something, he can't accept the gap opening up before himself and Dean.

It might be silly, but Castiel hopes Dean appreciates the pacific gesture when he goes shopping for the boys in a nearby corner shop. He realizes he is completely over-challenged as he tries to decide what items he should buy, but soon he decides for things he knows Dean likes – but he is devastated when he finds out the shop has run out of home-baked pie. He visits three more shops until he finds a bakery, and there he buys various types of pie, not sure if Dean prefers apple pie, pecan nut or coconut pie. He bundles all his purchases together and smiles at the old lady in the bakery before he vanishes into thin air right in front of her; he returns to Dean's room and places the pie on his nightstand. He puts the rest of the groceries on the huge table in the conference room where he had met Sam and Dean this morning.

Then Castiel returns to Dean's room and sits down on his bed, and he waits for their return. It's the best place he can stay while he waits, because the sheets smell like Dean, and the mattress is soft and it's giving way to his weight perfectly. He feels the remnants of pain coursing through his injured abdomen, and he winces at the sudden flash of hot white hurt seizing him violently. He should have taken more time to let himself heal... Tiredness beats him, and he thinks he really doesn't want Dean to find him this way, but he lays down on the comfortable bed anyway. He thinks it's soothing when he breathes in Dean's pheromones, sticking to the pillow and the blanket, and all he can do for a few minutes is lay there and inhale Dean's scent as the bed warms his body with slumberous heat. It calms him to the point where he allows himself to let his eyes close, and he becomes unconscious quickly – if he were human it could be called sleep, but Castiel rather deems it as rest period for a bruised, exhausted angel.

Sam and Dean get back a few hours later, bringing along documents and records of Father Thomson – a lot of files they need to look through to unravel the riddle of curing a demon. Sam frowns when he sees a bag on the table, and when he looks inside he can't help but laugh heartily. Dean seems puzzled through Sam's laughter, a sound he hasn't heard in weeks it seems. He approaches the mysterious bag and peeps into it, and then he has to smile too. Cas, that dumb bastard, he thinks sentimentally. He shakes his head amused when his and Sam's eyes meet. Sam offers to check on him and that Dean should go ahead with running over the Father's things.

Dean just sat down when Sam comes back to him with a broad grin on his face.

"You should see it for yourself. Really", Sam just says and Dean knits his brows at that, but he doesn't contradict Sam, and he follows him wordlessly as they walk down the corridor to his own room. Sam opens the door and Dean feels a punch in his chest when he sees Castiel there, sleeping on his bed ever so soundly and innocently. He's laying on his stomach and his cheek rests on Dean's white pillow. Dean detects three slices of pie in a box on his nightstand, and he has to exhale a shaky laugh. He feels all ideas of anger and hurt pride disappear immediately, and all he can think is how wearied Castiel looks, and that he didn't do a single thing to help him ease his mind. He has upset him and made him have a guilty conscience about his mistakes – a part of him had wanted that, but now he regrets it as he feels sorry for being so stubborn towards Castiel.

"Well, ain't he a little angel", he mutters to himself, and Sam pats his shoulder reassuringly.

"Dean, I know you don't wanna talk about it, but maybe you should some day, you know. I mean, Cas is really trying to make amends. He even went shopping and bought your disgusting skin mag. Don't you think it's time you start contributing your part?"

Dean glares at him and it might unnerve Sam to the effect that he considers seriously to keep his mouth shut, but he can't keep watching Dean and Castiel fighting with each other so nastily. He wants them to be a team again, and he can't stand Dean's anger or Castiel's puppy eyes filled with so much hurt and misery.

"We can also continue tomorrow and take it easy for today. I could use the rest in any case", he argues, and he knows he has won when he sees Dean's shoulders and head sink and as he lets out a long sigh.

"Alright I guess", Dean answers, and then he walks into the room and shuts the door behind himself – he is too confused and lost in thoughts to give Sam one more look, and Sam smiles to himself satisfied when he hears the door shut quietly. They will figure it out, he thinks relieved, and he returns to the documents waiting for him.

Dean takes his time to readjust his thoughts; he takes his time to examine Castiel closely, how he is still lying in his bed, truly like an angel. His eyes wander to the pie and he shakes his head in disbelief at the angel's behaviour. Finally Dean mans up and dares to approach the unconscious angel; he slowly and cautiously sits down on the bed next to him, his eyes never leaving the celestial being. He does not want to interrupt his slumber or whatever it is that he needs to rest and heal. It feels right to lay down next to him, and a strange tranquillity arises inside Dean's chest. All anger has left him, now he is only occupied with worries and uncertainty regarding Castiel. He hears the soft steady breaths at his side, and when he turns his head to study Castiel, he can watch his chest rise and fall slowly and continually. Dean can't help but smile.

A frown appears on Castiel's forehead, and he starts to move; his eyes open up suddenly, and Dean catches his breath when they meet his, their focus on him becoming painfully clear. Castiel starts to sit up puzzled, and he seems disorientated or ashamed, but Dean grabs his wrist determinately and pulls him back on the mattress. Castiel lets him, and he lays down on his side and studies Dean's features silently. Dean turns on his side as well and gives himself the admission to wrap one arm around Castiel's waist as he approaches the angel's body with his own. Something changes in Castiel's eyes, and their look on Dean becomes soft and peaceful. He closes his lids in pleasure when Dean's fingers start to stroke his clothed side absent-mindedly, soothingly.

"I need to ask you something", Dean hears himself say quietly, and Castiel nods languidly. Dean can't take his eyes off the soft pink lips, slightly agape, nor the pale pretty face and the eyes fluttering behind shut lids.

"Why didn't you come back sooner if you heard me all the time? Do you know how that looks like to me? It seems like you don't care at all, so this is why I simply can't accept another "I'm sorry" of you. D'you understand that?", Dean explains, and he perceives his heart thumping furiously and nervously in his chest. He blushes, and he feels embarrassed when Castiel opens his eyes again and examines Dean for several seconds with the severe mask he always wears. Blindly the angel searches for Dean's hand and he entangles his soft warm fingers with Dean's easily.

"It's not about want, but willpower, Dean. Don't you dare to think I didn't want to come back. I always did. I just knew I couldn't." Castiel averts his eyes guiltily, realizing the full extent for Dean's resentment, and yet he knows he wouldn't have done it differently if he had a second choice. Castiel thinks it's a bit funny that Dean reckons Castiel does not care about him, because since Castiel rescued Dean from Hell, all he could ever care about was this man and his plans. He lays eyes on Dean again and recognizes the surprise mingled with hurt, and it's too painful to see him like this; Castiel figures he needs to express what's been going on in his mind for so long, because Dean does not see, does not understand, if he won't make him. So Castiel gently places his hand on Dean's cheek and looks him in the eyes steadily, and his heart leaps with joy when he sees so much trust and desire in those lovely green eyes, on the verge of desperate tears he's holding back.

"I've never said it to you, and the times I did you could not hear me. What I wanted to say is that I've heard your prayers, Dean. I've heard them everyday, and they were the only thing that kept me going. I was alone and on the run, and it were forlorn weeks, but your constant thoughts about me kept me resisting. What you don't know... I answered to each of your prayers, and of course you couldn't hear it, but I want you to hear it now. I figure we've been avoiding this way too long, and some things need to be said and heard, or otherwise quarrels like ours happen time and again..."

Castiel sees a forced smile on Dean's lips, and he can't think twice as he wishes it would disappear and an honest one would grace his mouth for once. He leans forward and kisses Dean gingerly; with closed lids both inhale the breaths of the other, and Castiel uses more pressure to melt their mouths together. Dean's forehead bumps against his and their mouth open to give each other deeper kisses. When Castiel pulls back he looks at Dean through half-lidded eyes, and there he sees the happy gleam in his green eyes and a fair smile on his wet sweet lips. Castiel smiles and kisses his lips one more time fleetingly. His thumb strokes along the stubbly cheek of Dean, and he watches him close his lids and he leans in to the touch, clearly enjoying the simple caress.

They're both amazed at how simple and easy it can be to lay in bed together and exchange fondlings, and it's so much better than the frustration and the wrath. The atmosphere between them is terrifically sheltered and cosy, and Dean's fingers dig into Castiel's hip insistently. In this moment he never wants the angel to leave again; it just feels too perfect to ever let him go or disappear on him once more. He feels a soft kiss on his forehead and lets out a pleased sigh.

"I've been hurting too...", Castiel murmurs, so close to his face, and Dean feels sleepy when Castiel's body heat wavers to him and warms him like a fluffy blanket. He listens attentively to Castiel's words, he never wants him to stop talking – he has missed the sound of his voice, and his words feel like a reward for all the tortures he had to suffer.

"I've wanted to come home to you, and sometimes your exasperation made me despair too."

Dean hears and feels Castiel snuggling up to him, and one arm of the angel envelopes Dean's side. Their chests collide and Dean notices Castiel's exhales fan against his bottom lip over and over again. He feels dizzy and light-headed, and so wonderfully thrilled that he wishes this moment would last forever. A quick soft kiss is pressed against his lips, and he feels desire pump through his veins maddeningly. He needs more of those kisses, more of those smooth touches and gentle words. All of them are things he hadn't received in such a long while, and he is grateful that Castiel is here with him now. It took him a while but he can appreciate his presence again, and from the way Castiel's fingers dig into his flesh he muses Castiel doesn't want to leave him either.

"I need you too, Dean... And I want you, and I love you", Castiel breathes against Dean's mouth, and for a second the world ceases to exist – all that matters are Castiel's words, and the way they embrace their bodies frantically. Dean takes Castiel in his arms and his hand gets lost in the dark strands of his hair; he pillows Castiel's head on his chest and holds him. Castiel is thrilled that the important words have finally left his mouth and that Dean will understand his feelings towards him perfectly now. Some things simply needed to be said and heard, before the other has the chance to get something wrong.

Dean lays on his back, with Castiel half draped over his body, and he can't stop his fingers sifting through Castiel's hair endlessly. He senses his hot moist breaths bedew his shirt, and it feels simply amazing to have his body weight on him, to let his fingertips perceive the fine soft structure of his hair. For the first time in a long while Dean doesn't feel angry anymore. He wraps his arms around Castiel's sides and presses him firmly against him, and when they both sigh with pleasure, he knows they're both happy.

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you made it till here, I'd love to know what you think <3


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